


Terrible As They Come

by dt01



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s01e04 Cyberwoman, Episode: s01e06 Countrycide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 07:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15335112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dt01/pseuds/dt01
Summary: So he takes that, he asks Jack about love then, tries using it as a shield or a weapon, he not quite sure which but he hopes it’ll get through. He yearns for this man to be more than just a monster in a fancy coat. He’s swiftly disappointed, and it’s like being plunged into icy water, his blood runs cold and his despair threatens to drown him.





	Terrible As They Come

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little fic I threw together after re-watching Season 1. I've been intrigued by the deep rivers of emotion that run through Ianto despite the fact that his character gives away so little, and is so absolutely deadpan. 
> 
> I wanted to explore those rivers a bit more when it comes to his desperate love for Jack, and how that love sort of starts in an already desperate place for him even though he's not able to admit it.
> 
> Could end up being part of a series because I'd like to continue this exploration, especially with the audio play "Broken," but I can't make any promises. I'm notoriously bad at finishing the things I start.
> 
> No beta, sorry my dudes, but it shouldn't too much of an eyesore.

 

Jack grabs Ianto by the hair, pulling his head back, demanding. “You hid a cyberman within Torchwood, and you didn’t tell us? What else are you keeping from us?”

The hold is surprisingly gentle for all that the situation has spun rapidly out of control, and that Jack knows it’s Ianto’s fault. It’s surprisingly gentle for all that Jack is also holding a pistol to Ianto’s temple. Ianto pretends not to notice, the gentle pressure of Jack’s hand or the gun. He spits out his reply with venom.

“Like you care. I clear up your shit. No questions asked, and that’s the way you like it. When did you last ask me anything about my life?”

His own words cut through him like a shard of glass lodged deep in his chest. It all hurts just to say. In front of Jack. In front of the object of some desperate and twisted affection inside of him. He is weak here, dead on his knees, and Jack can see.

His eyes feel wet. Glassy and glazed over in the chaos of this new storm. It’s sweeping him away piece by piece, and he’s been so strong for so long already.

Watching the collapse of what feels like his entire existence has pushed him over his ledge. It’s like he’s clinging to the last piece of a rocky cliff with bloody fingers.

God.

He’s tired.

“Her name’s Lisa,” he says. Tries to explain. “She’s my girlfriend.”

He keeps talking, keeps trying to make sense of it for them. Get them to understand. Fully. This is his lover. His girl. Wouldn’t they have done the same? Any one of them. Don’t they know love? Aren’t they all familiar with love like he is?

But he’s aware, deep down he knows that he’s reciting all his reasons and his loves for his own benefit as much as for theirs. Digging in to remind himself of why he’s so devoted to this pain.

“Ianto you have to believe me there is no cure,” Jack’s voice is gentler now. He’s trying to reason with him. There’s the barest hint of his paternal assurance in it. “Those who are converted stay that way.” And then, “Your girlfriend will not be the exception!”

The last sentence is a punch to the gut, and the whole thing is just like Jack. It’s  just like the man to comfort and destroy all at once, but Ianto listens. Let’s Jack say his piece, then swiftly decides to ignore it. He’s come this far. They won’t listen. They never do. He’ll fight for her. Until the end. He won’t give up. He’ll fight.

He loves her.

So he takes that, he asks Jack about love then, tries using it as a shield or a weapon, he not quite sure which but he hopes it’ll get through. He yearns for this man to be more than just a monster in a fancy coat. He’s swiftly disappointed, and it’s like being plunged into icy water, his blood runs cold and his despair threatens to drown him.

 

Not fifteen minutes later he wakes gasping on a tremor of arousal so fierce that it spikes through his guts down to his cock. For one horrifying second he’s looking into Jack’s eyes, certain he’s about to come as Jack puts a finger to his lips and begs his silence. Ianto is horrified. He’s humiliated. And all he wants is Jack’s lips back on his. Wants to grind against the other man in the dim red glow of the hub’s warning lights. Wants to come in his pants with Jack’s hand on his neck and Jack’s body warm and solid against him.

But the arousal shatters as quickly as it had appeared because he hears Lisa scream and everything else falls away.

The rest of the night carries on like a nightmare, but worse. Worse than anything he could ever imagine happening to himself or to anyone else. Over and over Lisa breaks his heart, fails to be what he needs her to be….fails to be her.  And over and over, so does Jack.

Jack fails to protect him. Jack fails to rescue them all in a way that leaves Ianto’s heart intact. In fact, Jack goes out of his way to rip Ianto’s heart to shreds. Ianto’s only consolation is the fact that he gives as good as he gets. For all of Jack’s brutality, Ianto fights back with cruelty of his own.

And then it’s over.

Ianto let’s go of the cliff, and lands swimming in the black.

 

They don’t forgive each other. Not really.

Jack promises to spend more time with him, says that as much as Ianto failed them all, and that he did, Ianto should be sure of that, but that it wasn’t completely his fault. Jack says he failed in his own way. Like Ianto had said, he should have asked after the him. Should have checked in on him, cared better for him, not been content to use him like an inanimate object up until the day Ianto snapped.

Ianto doesn’t correct him.

Doesn’t say, “I didn’t snap you arse, my girlfriend did! The love of my life abandoned me in her destruction and don’t you think that warrants a bit of a breakdown?”

Ianto doesn’t tell him it wouldn’t have mattered...because there’s a secret piece of him that wonders if maybe it would have.

Jack puts him on suspension, but doesn’t fire him. Ianto supposes he should be grateful, and he supposes that somewhere under the cold numb wash that’s taken prisoner of his soul, he probably is.

But they don’t forgive each other. Not yet.

 

Then they’re in the countryside and he’s meeting Jack’s gaze without fear. He’s staring down the other man, with his hot glare and his big hunched shoulders. They’re screaming at each other through the silence. It’s the fight on the Plass all over again. Ianto’s desperate rage is there, and so is Jack’s own anger, fueled by his hurt and betrayal.

And it’s all taking place over the camping gear. In the hastily hushed circle of their team members.

Ianto had felt a sick rush of satisfaction run through him when he’d lied about his last kiss. And he feels it again now at the evidence that Jack feels betrayed all over again. Not that he’s positive Jack would have wanted him to tell the truth, but he _does_  know that bringing up Lisa instead, struck an agitated chord in the man.

The rest of the team does their best to ignore both of them. They’re hoping to avoid their own guilt and shame associated with Ianto, and his calling out of their inconsideration. They don’t care enough to actually change their behavior, but they’re too cowardly to admit it. So instead they hide, Gwen and Owen rush off under the pretence of collecting firewood, and Tosh turns full away from the both of them. They don’t notice the stare down between their tea-boy and their captain.

Ianto knows he’s acting childish. There was really no need to bring Lisa up, he wasn’t even part of the game, no one had asked him to play, and they would have been happy to ignore his presence without comment as per routine. He could have been content to stay silent and still like always. But he wasn’t.

Content that is.

Things are different now without her, and he feels it necessary to remind the team of his own human experience.

 _I_ ' _m not okay,_ he thinks. _I’m still not okay, and it’s not fair for you all to ask me to pretend that I am._

He tries to convey this thought to Jack in the intense moment of shared eye contact, but he turns away under the pressure and the chill in Jack’s eyes. He turns away and writes Jack off. It’s not worth it, Jack doesn’t care. If he did care, if he did, then something would soften in him. Be it empathy for Ianto’s pain, guilt over the murder of Ianto’s girlfriend, or something, anything else. But nothing does. Jack is as hard and terrible as they come. And Ianto stands by the words he’d said the night of Lisa’s death. Jack Harkness is broken. Jack Harkness is a monster.


End file.
